


Yesterday I Got So Old

by gloss



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Getting High With Friends, Recreational Drug Use, getting yelled at by friends, making cool weekend plans with friends, surviving the heartland with friends, too early for the I LEARNED IT BY WATCHING YOU ad alas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26294752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Robin and Steve don't claim to know Hawkins nearly as well as Dustin and his friends, but the weird strip out behind Family Video is new territory for everyone.And perfect to get stoned in.
Relationships: Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19
Collections: Friendship Flash Fall 2020





	Yesterday I Got So Old

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).



> ♥ ♥ ♥ V_C, I hope you enjoy this
> 
> title from [The Cure](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDMDb8unsIA)

Behind the little strip mall is a whole No Man's Land of abandoned grocery carts and clumps of stubborn prairie grasses and broken asphalt in jigsaw puzzle shapes. Both Steve and Robin consider themselves relative connoisseurs of suburban detritus. Nothing like Dustin, of course, and his weird pals — those kids have made literal balls-out maps of Hawkins and renamed all their favorite stretches.

This secret landscape out behind Family Video, however, is new to them as well as Steve and Robin.

Dustin insists on calling it Beleriand or Broceliand, but has yet to be able to convince anyone else. 

Most of them just call it the out-back, though that has caused some confusion for Eleven, who's a _huge_ fan of Crocodile Dundee.

"Shitty garbage world of lame," Robin says in that high, squeaking voice one gets when trying to talk and hold their breath all at once. She passes the joint to Steve.

It's a raw spring day, not warm yet but the light is different. Like it's coming from higher up, faintly-edged in pink, promising real spring someday. Steve clocked out, but Robin's just using up her late lunch to keep him company and partake of the decent weed Steve's cousin brought from Chicago. He also brought some rap records and sad music made by sad androgynes for Robin. Most of the time, she feels like they're like people in the Soviet Union, hoping tourists bring them denim jeans and Michael Jackson tapes, only they're right here in America's heartland, yet so very far from anything halfway cool.

"DMZ," Steve suggests before pausing to inhale. His pinky goes up and out like the goddamn Queen of England taking tea; he sees her notice but can't seem to bring it back down in line with the others. "Shut up."

"Gimme." She snatches back the joint. "What's DMZ stand for?"

He exhales in a big dirty cloud, then tips back the milk crate he's sitting on. "Um. You know. The Dread. The Dirty Mmmmm Zone?"

"Mmmmm?"

"Still thinking of an M word," Steve admits.

"Mucky. Marooned. Misplaced."

"Mintyfresh?"

"What? No. That's enough grass for you, Harrington. Can't spare any more of those few lonely braincells."

"Murderous!"

"Also no," Robin says. "Last thing this town needs is more death."

Gulping, nodding in agreement, Steve tries to take back the joint. Robin is not only smarter and prettier than he is, but also faster, and evades him neatly. He ends up tugging on the side of her ugly Family Video tunic and making big pleading puppy-dog eyes. "Please, Miss Buckley, pretty please?"

She narrows her eyes at him, but also against the smoke curling up from the joint. "That's Ms. Buckley."

"Pretty please Ms. Buckley, I just want one more toke, please —" He draws out the vowels, goes down on his knee, then fully kowtows, gazing up at her. 

She kicks him in the shoulder. "God, you're sad. Take it."

"Rad!" He hops up to his feet far too fast; all his stoned-ness vaults up with him and he stumbles, catches his hand on the edge of the dumpster, then stumbles some more, weaving in a few dizzy circles before finally careening to a stop. "Ow."

"Dread Metaphysical Zone," Robin says, testing out how it sounds. She does not acknowledge his impromptu ballet. "Dirty Motherfucking Zone? No, can't say that in front of the kids."

"Those kids!" Steve says, then stops. 

"What about them?"

"Who?

"Sit down, you're done," Robin tells him. 

Head hanging, he shuffles back over. The only reason he doesn't trip is because he's wearing Vans slip-ons. He hands back the joint, which has lost its cherry, and sinks down next to her.

"I'm stoned," he says after a few minutes.

Robin nods sagely. She relit the stub, took three big drags off it, and pinched out the roach, all before either of them remembered to keep talking. "It's mutual, pal o'mine."

"Mutual," he says and giggles as he slings his elbow over her lap. "Dirty Mutual Zone?"

"Gross. Sounds like handjob central."

He starts giggling at that, and can't stop.

He rests his cheek on her shoulder and watches his own eyelashes as they blink. They're amazing. Like little hairy heroes. Tiny Danny DeVito's keeping his eyes clean and sparkly.

"One of these days," Dustin says, when he finds them there about fifteen minutes later, "one of these days, you're going to be, like, an afternoon snack for some feral Demodog and you won't even notice! You'll just giggle and offer it some of your magic grass!"

"Like Puff," Steve suggests. "You know, the magic dragon? You like dragons!"

"Yes, Steve, thank you, I am familiar with the classic folk song."

"We have flashbacks," Robin tells him. "This is how we deal."

"You don't _know_ from flashbacks, sister." Dustin has his arms folded and chin jutting out. "Believe me."

"Well, great. Now I want to cry," Robin says.

"Buddy," Steve says as he reaches to tug on the hem of Dustin's windbreaker. "Don't be mad?"

"I'm not mad." Dustin tries to step back, out of Steve's reach, but Steve holds on tight. "I'm disappointed. But I'm not mad."

"That's much better!" Robin says. "Thanks, man."

"Do you have flashbacks?" Steve is asking, pulling himself to his feet and staring deeply into Dustin's eyes, as if he can see them at the back of Dustin's skull. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Weird and gross," Dustin tells him. Steve's mouth drops open to protest, but no sound comes out. "All I want to talk about is when _Sword in the Stone_ is coming back in stock."

"Is there a dragon in that?"

"Yes! It's on the poster."

"Cool."

"But I wouldn't know, would I, since you keep renting it _despite my name being first in the list of holds_."

"Oh, no," Steve says mournfully. "Now I'm going to cry."

Dustin's jaw quivers. "Good! You're terrible at your job and it's affecting me directly!"

They stare at each other, furious but silent, trembling with emotion. All Robin can do is say, squeakily, "We probably have it on laserdisc, though. Your movie. No one ever rents laserdiscs. Please don't hate each other."

"I don't have a laserdisc player," Dustin replies without looking away from Steve. "I'm not, like, a millionaire."

"I am!" Steve bounces on his toes. "Not a millionaire, but my dad has a laserdisc player. We can watch your stoned dragon-sword movie this weekend!"

"First question. Can I bring my own snacks?" Dustin asks.

"You better, because your Chex mix is food of the gods," Robin tells him. "I don't know what you add to it, but it's _perfection_."

"Praline pieces," he tells her curtly before addressing Steve again. "Next question. Can I bring the guys?"

Steve rocks back on his heels. "All of them?"

"That's like three more people, Harrington. Can I or not?"

"Yes. But they can't fart on my couch. I'd prefer they didn't use the bathroom, either."

"I can't promise any of that," Dustin says. "Next question: can we sleep over?"

"You two work it out," Robin says and moonwalks to the back door of Family Video.

The door is locked, because Dustin forgot to wedge the thingie before letting it swing closed. 

Next up: bushwhacking the DMZ and hoping like hell there's a way out not guarded by Demodogs or bosses or nosy mothers. It might just be their greatest challenge yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Crocodile Dundee didn't come out in the US until the fall of 1986. But I needed the joke. I think Eleven would looooooove him and his big knife.


End file.
